


Ending in the same place

by Hedwig_Dordt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluf, M/M, werewolf convention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 23:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedwig_Dordt/pseuds/Hedwig_Dordt
Summary: Scott and Stiles attend the semi-regular werewolf convention. Scott is determined to tell Stiles how he feels, Stiles is trying to get over his infatuation with best friend.Yeah, that will go well.





	Ending in the same place

**Author's Note:**

> With gratitude to Fightyourdragon, for beta reading. Remaining flaws are my own.

They arrive at the convention hotel with about an hour to spare for registration. Stiles has skipped his Friday afternoon lecture (“Seriously, he doesn’t do anything but read of his slides with his back to the class. I can have Courtney forge my signature on the attendance sheet. She owes me a favour anyway. I’ll throw in a coffee for her too,” he had added when Scott had frowned at him via Facetime.). They have a whole weekend ahead of them with other wolves, to discuss living as werewolves in a rapidly digitalising world. Of course, the organising committee had told the hotel they were a fan convention, and that some ‘cosplay’ was to be expected.  _ Really good _ cosplay. 

 

They check in at the hotel and register with the convention organisers. Scott tamps down the slight thrill of seeing Stiles under the McCall name, and reminds himself that the hard part is to come. He is grateful Stiles doesn’t seem to notice the lady at the convention desk sizing him up, and when he moves a bit closer to his friend and flashes his eyes for a moment, she lowers her head a fraction, acknowledging him as an alpha. He isn’t sure he likes himself when he postures like that, but he can’t help himself when it’s Stiles. They register without any further mishaps, and take the elevator to their floor. 

“Are you ready for an awesome weekend, Scotty?” Stiles asks.

“Totally. I have our schedules mapped out and everything.”

“Nice. What are we doing?”

“I have it in my bag, I’ll get it out when we’re in our room.”

Their room. That’s what Scott has been dreading the last month and a half - at least. Because when they registered for the conference, Scott ordered them a single bed, assuming he’d finally get around to confessing to his best friend that he’d like to be more than friends, and even more optimistically, that Stiles would kiss him and everything would be amazing and wonderful. He reasoned that by the time the convention came around, he could parade his cute boyfriend, and have copious amounts of sex in the hotel bed. But the problem was: he hadn’t. Scott McCall, true alpha that ended the Argent hunter line, who had fought every sort of nightmare creature with kindness and willpower, has chickened out. He created a lot of opportunities for himself - booked restaurants, set up hikes together, marathoning video games - but for all that Stiles sat close to him, leaning in, exchanging food from their platters, Scott hasn’t worked up the courage to say the words. But he is going to. Soon.

“So what should we do first?” Stiles asks, oblivious to Scott’s worries, “there’s an opening dinner tonight, there’s booths to browse, there’s a bunch of panels tomorrow. Which one do you want to see? Or should we maybe eliminate which ones we might want to miss in favour of others?”

“I have a schedule,” Scott replies. 

Stiles blinks twice, and breaks into a grin: “of course you do, you nerd.”

“You’re the one that bought tickets. And yes, I made a proposed schedule for you too.”

The elevator dings and they get out.

“What do you mean, a schedule for me? I thought the whole point of this weekend was to spend it together!”

“Then we’ll take option number 3, the shared itinerary.” 

“You already worked out three different schedules for this conventions? Scotty, are you okay?”

“I play the long game,” Scott says, which is the truth, wrapped up in a lie.

Stiles opens the door to their room, then stops dead in his tracks, and Scott bumps into him. “There must be some kind of mistake,” Stiles says. Scott looks over his shoulder, where in the room he sees the one bed. 

“I can sleep on the floor,” Scott offers. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve haven’t had a sleepover since high school! This will be… fine.” Stiles says, his enthusiasm wavering towards the end. Stiles walks in, and flops down on the bed. “Of course it will be fine. Come on in and close the door.” He hopes that Scott hasn’t noticed his heartbeat going haywire. He can do this, he can handle sharing a bed with his best friend.

  
  


A convention full of people that are clued in on the supernatural would mean a great opportunity to finally get over his crushing crush on his best friend, Stiles had reasoned when he agreed to come on the trip with Scott. An added bonus would be skipping professor Johanssen’s class, because that man should never be made to stand in front of an audience. As Stiles is standing at the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention, a beautiful woman starts trying to strike up a conversation with him. 

“So do you do this often?” she asks.

“Failing to order a drink? Yeah. Why?”

She smiles at him, and leans in a bit. “Just making conversation. You seem like an interesting guy. You were at the panel about wolfsbane too right? What did you think?”

The bartender moves even further away from them to serve another woman.  _ Why am I not happy about this? _ Stiles wonders,  _ she’s gorgeous and available, which is one more thing than Scotty _ . Which returns his thoughts to Scott. He sighs, trying to guess if they have Scott´s preferred black currant juice, wondering if he should have a beer and why this woman is talking to him. He decides to take the direct route.

“So what’s your agenda here?” he asks sharply. 

“Oh, and such a take-charge attitude,” she purrs, flashing her eyes alpha-red. “I’m looking for some fun, and those hands suggest you could show a girl a good time, several good times even.”

“You’re… hitting on me?” It comes out as a question. He turns to wave at the bartender who for a mercy comes back over. “Black currant juice and a coke, please.”

The bartender nods, and starts making his drinks.

“Kind of, but I’m starting to think you’re not interested.”

“No offence, I’m sure you’re a wonderful person…”

“Are you okay?” Scott turns up at his arm, putting a hand on his elbow. He turns to the woman: “And you are?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, I had no idea he was spoken for.” 

“I’m not…” Stiles starts to say, but Scott interjects forcefully: “Like you couldn’t smell me all over him”. 

Scott growling is a rare thing, and a very sexy thing, Stiles concludes. “Scotty, she’s leaving us alone,” Stiles says soothingly. 

The woman turns to Stiles. “Really, you should wear a ring if you’re partnered.” She stalks off. 

“I don’t like her,” Stiles mutters to no one in particular. “She sounds like trouble. Did you get any weird scents from her?”

The bartender puts their drinks on the bar. “That’ll be eight dollars, please.” Stiles hands him ten, and waves off the change. 

“She was hitting on you! You were clearly uncomfortable!” Scott says. “Just because she’s a woman and you’re a man doesn’t make it right.”

Stiles is weirded out by the strength of Scott’s response, it’s almost as if he is  jealous, but Scott doesn’t have a jealous bone in his body. “Scotty, I was not uncomfortable. I mean, she was a bit forceful, but nothing bad happened. Here, have some grape juice.”

That changes Scott’s mood, he goes a little soft: “Hey you found my favourite,” he says.

“Gotta look out for my alpha,” Stiles says, wishing he had more of a right to the possessive. Scott seems oddly conflicted about it, first pleased, then sad for a second. Then Scott’s usual cheerful demeanor returns. They go over their impressions of the day. 

“Ito pack is stable, and not really looking to expand,” Stiles reports, “so our northern border should be fine. The Henrixes are going to be in need of a new emissary in a few years. If my logic holds…”

“Big if,” Scott teases.

“If my logic holds, I expect their alpha and emissary are stepping down in the coming years. They sent their beta to the emissary workshop, probably to scout.”

“I assume you also know who is next in line?”

“Yolanda, I hear her name is.”

“Is she partnered?”

“Don’t know - do you want to find out? Are we here for a merger?”

“No, it’s just…” Scott goes quiet, clearly weighing his words carefully. “I want you to be happy more than anything.”

“Dude if you think leaving Beacon Hills would make me happy, you and I need to have a long conversation.”

“I know, but I just want you to know you have options,” Scott says gently.

“What? Like Yolanda?”

“Sure. There’s others too, looking you over right now.”

Stiles looks around, trying to figure out who Scott might be referring to, but meets mostly blank stares. “I’ll take your word for it.” As a way of restoring balance he asks, “so have you met anyone that catches your eye?”

Scott shakes his head: “Nobody new.” Which is weird: there are so many new people to meet in this weekend.

  
  


On Saturday afternoon, Stiles is scheduled to give a speech followed by a roundtable conversation about diversity within packs. Scott has helped him prepare for some of the issues that might come up. Scott forewent seeing a panel on Alphas in History to hang out with Stiles before his speech, because Stiles is likely to get worked up with nerves. Sure enough, he can smell Stiles’ anxiety as he walking into their corridor.

“Hey dude, did you take your meds?” he asks when he walks in.

“I did!” Stiles says, and frowns adorably, “didn’t I?”

“What time?” Scott asks. Looking after his friend always makes him feel warm inside. 

“Breakfast? I think? I may have lost track,” Stiles confesses. 

Scott sits down next to him. “You’re prepared, Stiles. Now all you have to do is show up.”

“And not suck,” Stiles mutters.

“You will not suck.” Scott says, “you’ve lived this shit. You’ve got this. Now, do you want to come outside, check out the room you’ve been assigned and pace a hole in the carpet?”

“I guess,” Stiles says without much conviction.

Scott hugs him, and Stiles hugs back. They sit, arms wrapped around each other, quietly. Scott wishes it wouldn’t have to end. Stiles lets go, blushing a little, his anxiety mostly gone. 

“Let’s go see if anyone is interested,” Stiles says. Scott beams at him. 

 

People are interested. There is a steady stream of people coming in. As announced in the booklet, Stiles closes the door when the table is filled with twenty-three other people.

“Please take a seat,” he says, “and welcome everybody, my name is Stiles Stilinski, my preferred pronouns are he and him, I’m out as bisexual to my pack, and I’m a spark, though I’m usually read as human.” There are some polite snickers among the attendees. “I’d like to invite you to introduce yourselves, please, with as little or as much information as you’d like.”

From there it’s smooth sailing, mostly. Everyone introduces themselves, Stiles tells the story of how their pack came together, and what he’s taken away from that experience.

“I get that not every pack can have a true alpha, or even a leader like Scotty,” and he winks at Scott. Scott blushes when everyone looks his way. “But seriously, we can all learn from what he has done, how he makes his choices.” He proceeds to outline the importance of looking ahead, and trying to see the other’s point of view, and how that can inform your strategy. There’s a polite applause at the end.

“There’s one thing I think people here should know,” Scott says, “and that’s that I have an excellent…”

“Second?” someone on the other end of the table offers.

“An excellent person next to me,” Scott corrects. “Stiles here is giving the impression I’m the one doing the heavy lifting, but he is always there with me. His instincts and mine don’t always align, but he is always has my back, he always looks out for me.” Scott looks up at Stiles´ face, wondering if this would be a good place to add his declaration. Stiles is beaming with fondness and pride, and Scott smiles at him. “He is not my second, he’s my best friend and my first.” Stiles’ smile falters a little, and Scott tilts his head questioning, Stiles puts on his brave smile in response. Scott knows this smile, and it’s one of the things Scott doesn’t love to see - it means Stiles feels like he should hide something. Scott decides there and then he will find out why his friend feels like he should hid his feelings. Right after he tells Stiles they should date - like, romantically. 

 

Stiles wakes up to the sound of rain pattering against the window. Drowsily, he realises he is more comfortable then he has felt in a long time. It's because he is warm, the rational part of his brain supplies. After the nogitsune, you've felt so cold for so long, you've forgotten what feeling comfortable feels like.  _ Because I don't deserve comfort _ , he tells his rational brain.  _ Is that true though? _ His brain returns.  _ What are you, my therapist? _ And then he thinks, I am talking to myself. A therapist might not be a bad idea after all. And then he realises why he is comfortable: in their sleep, Scott has wrapped an arm around him. Stiles wills himself calm, to evaluate the situation as neutrally as he can manage. His best friend, his alpha, and the crush he vowed to get over this weekend, has wrapped his arm around him in their sleep - evaluation: might be an unconscious action, Scott has shared a bed before, though not with him. Scott gave a public declaration at the roundtable yesterday to a group of people - evaluation: Scott is a warm and generous person, and clearly loves and appreciates him. Which is great! He can take that! Friendship is not a consolation prize! 

“I can hear you thinking,” Scott grumbles, “stop thinking and go back to sleep.”

“I can hear you thinking,” Scott grumbles, “stop thinking and go back to sleep.” He wraps his arm even more tightly around Stiles. Stiles decides that he will enjoy this in the spirit of friendship which is so clearly how it;s been offered.

 

Scott wakes up to a sensation of profound rightness, Stiles’ scent in his nose, snuggled up around… Wait. He wakes up with a start. Stiles is sleeping soundly under his arm. He tries to turn over to his side. Stiles must not have been sleeping deeply, because his heartbeat quickens.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, “I was just so comfy...” He looks adorable with his hair sleep-mussed, and his eyes still a bit bleary with stolen sleep.

“Don’t be. I liked it.” Scott says. He leans in a bit, “I could even say I could get used to this.”

Stiles looks at his face, searching for something, something like hope flutters on his face as he stammers, “You… Me?”

“Yes you. It’s been you for a while.” Before he can start the rest of his well-rehearsed declaration Stiles kisses him. It´s gentle, exploratory at first but heats up fast. They kiss as if they have to make up for lost time, like it´s the only thing that matters. It´s everything he imagined, and it´s nothing like it. Scott allows himself to lose himself in the touch of Stiles´ lips, sensation of their scents mixing.

When they come up for air, Stiles shakes his head: “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. I came here with the plan to get my mind off of you!”

“I’ve been trying to tell you so many times. I’ve loved you for a long time, it kind of snuck up on me. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Stiles looks away from him. “Hey, none of that,” Scott says, “I love you – you love me. It’s all that matters. Love is not about deserving. All you have to do is accept it.”

Stiles’ smile turns into a challenging smirk: “I guess you’ll have to convince me.”

“Oh I will.”  

And he does.


End file.
